46
We returned to the coat closet. The top of the trapdoor was covered with a square of carpeting that matched its surroundings. No wonder I’d never noticed it before.
He reached into his pocket, then patted himself all over. “Shite! Where’s my b****y keys?”
“They must be in the bedroom. Hang on, I’ll get them.” I hurried to the bedroom and scanned everywhere for the keys. Outside, a SWAT team was moving into place, armed with assault rifles, a very heavy-looking battering ram, and what appeared to be some sort of launcher, most likely for teargas. Lovelace was making more demands over the bullhorn, but I ignored her.
“I can’t find them, Conor.” I searched the bed, the closet, the bathroom.
The pounding of the battering ram on the front door rattled my teeth. These guys were serious.
